


Silver and Gold

by MarsDragon



Category: Fatal Fury
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, Gen, New Year's Eve, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22064335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: Geese Howard and New Year's Eve, 1969 and 1981.
Kudos: 4





	Silver and Gold

Geese scanned the shadows around him, alert for the slightest movement, the smallest noise. The only light came from the open door down the hall, where distant streetlights spilled across the wooden floor in an unhealthy yellow haze, only slightly illuminating the surrounding darkness. The sticky air, barely cooled from the day, laid over the city like a shroud, seeming to muffle everything from the chirping crickets to the distant boom of fireworks. 

The floor creaked to his side and Geese spun around, ready for anything.

"What's taking him so long?" his co-conspirator muttered irritably. "He said he knew exactly where to look."

"Shut up," Geese hissed. "You were the one going on about perfect silence earlier!"

Jeff shrugged, the movement only visible by a shifting of shadows. "It's almost midnight, and Master Tung goes to bed early. We can probably whisper."

"It we get caught it's your fault," Geese muttered back, and returned his attention to scanning his side of the hallway for any sign of their master sneaking up on his delinquent students. At least he could keep up his side of the plan, unlike certain other people...

"Here I aaaaaaam!" came from behind in a sing-song whisper, making them both jump and cutting three years off Geese's life. The third member of their little conspiracy, Cheng, stepped between them with a wide grin and a large jug in one hand. In the other... 

"You were getting snacks?" Jeff said, with clear disbelief.

"It's not a party without snacks," Cheng replied cheerfully. "You'll want them later, trust me."

"Can we just get going already? The sooner we get out of here the better," Geese said, and stalked towards the open door as quickly as stealth could allow. The other two followed on cat feet, only faint taps marking their passage.

Everyone relaxed once they were outside and scampering through the patchy, uncut grass around the pool, away from the dojo where their master slept unaware. They got to one of the bare, scraggly trees that adorned the edges of the yard and collapsed under it, laughing in relief and celebration. Geese and Jeff crowded around Cheng, who placed the jug between them with ostentatious ceremony, undercut by his wide grin. "And here you are, gentlemen, the finest wine out of China, presented for your enjoyment on this cold-"

"Get on with it!" Jeff shoved Cheng's shoulder, still laughing. "Do you want to be here until dawn?"

"And I'd be surprised if it was really the finest wine out of China," Geese added, slightly peevish even to his own ears.

Cheng gave him a broad wink. "It's the finest we allow out of the country where silly foreigners can get at it," he said. He drew the cork out and took a long sniff. "Ah, the heady bouquet! Who wants to be first?"

Jeff claimed his right as eldest and Geese let him, hanging back with Cheng as Jeff raised the jug and took a big gulp. 

His face screwed up, twisted into several strange figures, and finally smoothed out as, with great effort, he swallowed the liquor down. 

"Too much for you?" Cheng asked with an ironic glint in his eye.

"N-not at all!" Jeff said, slamming the jug down. "It's great! Perfect! Your turn now, Geese." 

Geese took the jug, which suddenly felt much heavier than clay and liquor should. A faint, syrupy smell wafted from the top, and he swallowed hard. 

"You can pass if you want," Cheng said, and now his voice was a gracious older brother giving his younger a favor. Geese glared at him, all nervousness forgotten, and threw his head back to take his own drink.

 _Sweet_ was the only sensation on his tongue, a twisted, burning sweetness that overwhelmed everything else. It resisted all efforts to swallow it, filling his head with fumes until he somehow managed to force it down. It left a hot trail down his gut and lodged in his stomach like fire. 

"So, for reference," Cheng said, taking the jug from Geese's nerveless fingers, "you usually water this stuff down before drinking. And when you do drink, you take small sips." He demonstrated.

Jeff handed Geese the open can of potato chips, which he gratefully accepted, filling his mouth with salt and grease to cut the sticky syrup that coated his tongue. For his part Jeff settled back against the tree with his own handful of chips. "I notice that you didn't get water," he said, munching.

"You can go back for it, if you want," Cheng said. All three looked back to the shadowed dojo, thought about what Master Tung would do if he caught them now, and silently decided it was better to compound their mischief while they still could.

Geese elbowed Jeff out of the way so they could both sit under the tree, and refused to yield to the good-natured shoves in return. They ended up with Jeff's shoulder in Geese's face and Geese's knee in Jeff's side, and finally leaned back against the rough bark together. Jeff handed Geese the jug with a cheerful grin. Geese looked at it with some trepidation, then got over himself and took a sip. It was just as miserably sweet as last time. 

Jeff took his own sip, handling it much better than his first time. "Ah, the end of '69. You two ready for 1970?"

"Are _you_ ready? You got lucky on the last two lotteries, think you can keep up the streak?" Cheng replied, and they were off on a long discussion on the best way to dodge the draft, punctuated with chips and more alcohol.

Geese tuned them out and turned to look out over the pool. "1969, huh..." he murmured to himself. It had been...a year, certainly. He was training every day, and he could feel the difference between a year or two ago and now. He was well-taken care of, with food on the table and a warm place to sleep, and _his mother was still dead_.

His stomach churned as he curled against the tree, ignoring Jeff's arm digging into his side. It was stupid to be sad about it, stupid to be mad, stupid to be anything until he was strong enough to _do_ something about it. Better to be like the pool, calm and still. 

It sat there, shining in the yellow light under a smudgy, smoky sky, and still it had the glint of silver. Geese felt strange and unmoored, like he was fuzzing away to nothingness, while the pool sharpened in his vision as everything around it blurred. His stomach was still too hot, but it was far away, along with his chilly fingers. The pool was right there, crystal clear in the rotten mess that was Southtown, untouched by all the greed and pollutants around it... He wished he could keep hold of it, he wished his mother could see it, he wished it would stay forever because there was something important there, something he could just barely touch.

Jeff and Cheng had shut up for a bit, and Geese stepped in to share his new revelation. "That pool," he said, clear as he could, "is the one pure thing in this city."

The other two stared at him. 

"It's covered in pond scum," Jeff said.

"I pissed in it last week," Cheng added.

"That's gross, man," Jeff said as Geese flushed with something between humiliation and rage. He grabbed the jug and downed another gulp, ignoring Cheng's protests about how he would've gone inside, really, if _someone_ hadn't been taking up the bathroom for an hour getting ready for the club.

Funny. Every time he drank, Geese felt it was the worst idea he'd ever had. Then a few minutes later he wanted to do it again. 

"That's not _important_ ," he declared over the burgeoning argument. "What's important is...is..." His thoughts glided away from him like fish, unable to be caught. He was left waving the jug with unsteady hands, unable to complete the sentence. "It's...uh, you know!"

Jeff gently took the jug away. "Well, what is really important, when you get down to it?" he said, philosophically, and took another drink. 

"Money," Cheng said with finality. 

"Bullshit," Jeff replied, pulling the sulking Geese back down next to him. "It's gotta be love. All you need is love, you know?"

"Love doesn't keep you fed," Geese cut in. "When there's no food, love's in short supply." His mother had tried, and what had it gotten her? Dying of overwork in a rat-infested apartment while her husband lorded it up in a castle with a new wife and son. Sickening.

"That's right!" Cheng tried to point at Geese and fell over instead. "Money is the most important thing. No, it's not the most important thing, it's the only thing. Or at least the third most important thing...yes, the third most important thing." He rolled over with a wide grin. "I just keep forgetting what the first two are."

"Greedy bastard." Jeff shook his head. "You really believe that, Geese?"

Geese paused, trying to organize his scattered thoughts. He felt more disconnected than ever. Money wasn't the most important thing, really... "It's not money," he mumbled. "Money's just a way of keeping score."

"And the person with the most wins!" 

"No...it's not money," Geese insisted. Money was important. It kept food on the table and a roof over your head, and if you had it everything else fell into place. But that wasn't it. 

Krauser's vicious, triumphant smile rose in his memory, along with the cold face of his father and the glittering spectacle of their castle. Money had bought them that, but it was just the outside. The real most important thing... "Strength," he finally slurred out. "You gotta be strong."

"Strength's important," Jeff acceded, crunching on some chips. "But it's all about what you use it for. Strength is meaningless without something to protect. And from the love of- of what you're protecting, you get more strength. Get it?" 

Geese's father hadn't loved anything, his mother had, and look where they both ended up. He opened his mouth to try and explain, but one look at Jeff's cheerful, open face stopped that idea cold. It was pointless. "You're a sap," he muttered instead, and went for the remains of the potato chips.

"Is that so bad?" Jeff's arm wrapped around Geese's shoulders and dragged him close. "It's the age of saps. Now buck up, it's almost the new year! Cheers!" He held up the jug in a toast. 

Geese grumbled and elbowed Jeff in the stomach, but he raised his hand and tapped it against the now noticeably lighter jug anyway. "Cheers."

Cheng was studying the hands of his glowing wristwatch. "11:59...get ready," he said. "5..."

Jeff pushed the jug into Geese's hand. "4!"

"3..." Geese gave up and took another drink. Still sickeningly sweet. He put the jug down safely and leaned against Jeff.

"2..." Cheng hunched over his watch. He was really getting into it.

"1!"

* * *

The party was in full swing. All of Southtown's elite were on full display, glittering under the sparkling New Year's decorations. There was mingling, drinking, deal-making, and a great deal of making sure one was seen with the correct people - changes were coming, and the party-goers knew that. They very much knew who to thank, and who would be determining the winners and losers of the coming year.

Geese leaned back against the wall and looked out over Southtown - now truly and entirely his. Cheng had been banished back to Hong Kong years ago, and didn't seem to care one way or another what his former sworn brother was getting up to on the other side of the world. He'd promised a few deals to Geese and would stay out of the way, and that was all Geese needed from the lazy pig. Krauser was in Germany, and seemed content to leave Geese to his American playground. Someday the Howard Connection would be strong enough to challenge Europe. Maybe not this year, maybe not this decade, but someday. And Jeff...

Jeff would never bother him again. Geese had personally made sure of that.

The wine was sweet and smooth as it ran down his throat, the inimitable taste of victory.

"Ah, Geese! It's wonderful to see you!" A man - Geese couldn't remember his name and didn't care - approached him with a ingratiating smile. "I look forward to working with you in the new year."

"Likewise." Geese nodded to the worthless sycophant and turned his attention back to the beautiful sight of his city spread out below them like a blanket of stars. 

"1982, huh..." The sycophant was still there, for some reason. "I can't believe it. It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating 1980! Where does the time go?" Geese didn't bother to reply. "Do you have any hopes for the new year?"

"Of course I'm looking for improved growth and exciting opportunities in the new year," Geese said, and kept "I hope crawling maggots like you die" to himself. His position wasn't that secure yet. "I trust I can count on your support."

"Of course, of course!" The man raised his glass and clinked it against Geese's without asking. "To cooperation!" They both drank, and Geese was displeased to find the wine had developed a new, sour note.

" _There_ you are!" A high, feminine voice interrupted, and a woman in a slinky dress ran up to plaster herself all over the sycophant. "I've been looking all over for you - and Geese! It's so _lovely_ to see you here," she cooed, and held out her hand.

Geese didn't shake it. Eventually her artificial smile slipped, and she gingerly withdrew to cling to the sycophant instead. "Well..." she said, "Happy New Year!" She turned back to the sycophant with an equally fake pout. "Now come on sweetie, let's find a place where we can be alone, hm?" 

They walked away, disappearing into the swirling crowd. Geese sipped his drink and watched. Women in bright dresses, men in sharp suits...they all started to look the same after a bit. Maybe it was time to find something to eat. Get some of the little crackers with dates and goat cheese, or - something was wrong. In the crowd...

Geese stepped away from the wall and scanned the room. The new police commissioner, one of his trusted men. The mayor, a worthless man with a weakness for money. The port commissioner, another trusted man. And, in between all the fancy dress...a man in suspenders and a worn-out newsboy cap.

"No..." He stepped forward involuntarily, refusing to believe his eyes. "You're dead. I killed you!"

Jeff turned to look at him, the tiny glass as out-of-place in his hand as he was in the crowd of elites. 

"You're dead..." He had done it himself. He'd felt Jeff's ribs crack, watched Jeff's blood spill over his hands. He'd read the reports, halted the investigation, gone to gloat over the grave. Jeff Bogard was _dead_. 

His once-brother just sipped his drink and watched the crowd, looking tired and worn. He hadn't always been like that, had he? The Jeff Geese remembered could be irritatingly cheerful, always going on about justice or heroism or some crap like that. A dedicated martial artist, sure, but he'd gone out to clubs and spent long nights drinking and playing pinball. Geese had gone to pick him up from those nights, more than once. When had it changed?

"Ah...Mr. Howard? Geese?" An annoying voice broke into Geese's swirling thoughts. A hand reached out to tug hesitantly at his sleeve.

"Don't hang around here," he muttered. "You're dead."

"Ah! S-sorry!" The hand on his sleeve disappeared. Geese turned to see a hunched figure bowing and scraping as he backed away. He didn't know the man. It didn't seem worth going after him. 

When he turned back, Jeff was gone as if he had never been.

Geese took a large gulp of his drink and realised too late it was empty. Worthless. Did he have to do everything himself? He stalked over to one of the circulating waiters and grabbed another drink from the tray. It was disgustingly sweet. 

A woman came up to him, one of the circulating whores. Or escorts, or courtesans, or whatever you called them when they cost a lot of money. He wrapped an arm around her waist - why not? It would pass the time. She was irritatingly pliant against him, doing whatever he wanted with no resistance. Pathetic. Her breath was hot and smelled like flowers soaked in alcohol.

He looked up from the woman's lips to see Jeff watching them, shaking his head. 

"What do you care?" Geese snarled, shoving the woman away. She said something he didn't pay attention to, all his focus on the damn specter haunting him. Jeff just watched him, always with those same tired eyes. The eyes he'd carried all the way to his own death. "You couldn't stop me then, what do you think you'll accomplish now?"

"Mr. Howard, are you all right?" The woman had her hand on his shoulder, and was looking at him like she was concerned for some reason. 

He pushed her away again. "It's none of your business," he said, and stalked off to find a real solution to his problem. Cocaine. Everything could be solved with sufficient application of cocaine.

Jeff watched him go. 

It wasn't hard to find. Someone had set up lines in one of the side rooms, with other businessmen and more whores enjoying them. Geese settled in, chatting about new deals for the new year and watching Jeff out of the corner of his eye. His once-brother was frowning at him, but what did he care? He was on top of the world. One of the whores cut for him, and he snorted three lines without pausing. 

Geese raised his head, wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. His heart was pounding, warm euphoria was spreading out from his spine, and Jeff was completely gone. One of the women laughed and wrapped her arms around him and it didn't matter. Jeff was gone.

"I never needed you," he whispered. It was like electricity through his entire body. He was invincible, immortal, alone. "You always just held me back. And now I rule the entire city." Krauser couldn't touch him. His father couldn't touch him. He shone alone in the polluted night, perfect and pure. "I even bought that old dojo. It's mine now. How does that feel, you sanctimonious bastard?" 

Jeff couldn't reply. He was finally, well and truly, dead.

"Who are you talking to, Geese?" A sing-song voice reached his ears, and Geese realised he was standing, with the whore wrapped around his waist. She was giggling to herself. 

He pushed her away without looking. "I have already walked too far in this ocean of blood to turn back now, for it would be as far back as forward." 

"Nice," she said, grinning. "What's that?"

"Shakespeare. _Hamlet_." Or _King Lear_ , he wasn't entirely sure. It didn't matter anyway. He did another line, then gave in to the overwhelming urge for a cigar. 

Someone ran in from the main room, shouting about a countdown. One of the businessmen laughed and started. "5!"

"4!" One of the women held up her glass, swaying dangerously.

Someone fell over, shouting "3" and "2" as they hit the ground.

Geese settled back in his chair, enjoying the taste of his cigar. He had everything he wanted: Money, respect, _power_. It would be a good year. Hell, it would be a good decade. A good rest of his goddamn life.

"1..."

**Author's Note:**

> "I am in blood/Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,/Returning were as tedious as go o'er:" - Macbeth, Act 3, scene IV.
> 
> Macbeth being the play where the title character murders his friend in a bid for power that ultimately destroys him, and Act 3, scene IV being specifically the scene where the dead friend shows up at a banquet to haunt him. 
> 
> I never said I was subtle. 
> 
> The first part of this story is an idea I've had kicking around for awhile, but it only really came into being when I decided to tie it into New Year's and the second half. I just think it's really important that Geese and Jeff were, in fact, good friends for awhile. Otherwise there's just no point.


End file.
